


Passing Through a Mirror

by SupposedToBeWriting



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Ain't Love a Kick in the Head, Data is Confident In Precisely 14 Things And None Of Them Is Romance, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mirror Universe (Star Trek), New Relationship, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 14:35:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21147320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupposedToBeWriting/pseuds/SupposedToBeWriting
Summary: Data comes to realize that, unless he is thoroughly uneducated in relationships, someone who looks and sounds just like his boyfriend cannot possibly be his boyfriend. He must venture into the selfish, violent mirror universe to bring back Geordi La Forge - if there's any part of him left to bring back.





	1. Not-Geordi

Data terminated his sleep program.

He sat up in his bed. The blankets around him were still tucked in from the night before; there was not a hair out of place. Indeed, the only thing that had changed since he had laid down was an indentation on the pillow next to his head. Had Spot gotten up? Data looked for her around his immediate area and failed, but then he heard a loud meow from near the replicator.

Data stood and walked over, only to see his cat readying herself to leap from the table to the replicator stand. When she saw him, Spot cried shrilly.

“Spot,” he advised, ever patient. “The replicator will not recognize your vocalizations as a request. This effort is futile.”

She did not seem to listen to him. Subsequently, Data walked over and picked her up from the table. He held her against his chest. Usually, Spot would follow such affection with settling against him and perhaps a purr. Now, Spot was hungry and fidgeted in his arms.

“I will feed you.” Data promised, placing his beloved pet on the ground. He went to the replicator and requested a dish. As soon as he placed it down, Spot was over and eating. She purred as she did so, though Data privately thought she was eating too quickly to be strictly healthy. He made a mental note to replicate a dish to prevent such an act in the future.

He watched Spot eat in silence. As he did so, he mentally sent a message to Geordi’s communicator.

_Good morning, Geordi. Is your recovery in sickbay progressing smoothly? _

After Geordi’s incident yesterday with the transporter, Data considered it a reasonable question to ask. He would check on Geordi in person when Spot finished her morning meal. Elated, Spot continued to eat in such a fashion that Data could only accurately describe as ‘snarf’. Sometimes Geordi ate like that. He had last seen Geordi twelve hours and forty-three minutes ago in sickbay, but Geordi had not been conscious.

There had been an emergency beam-up from the planet, as both the _Enterprise _and planet were beginning to weather through an ion storm. Chief O’Brien had nearly lost Geordi’s matter signature in doing so, which caused no small amount of strain to Data’s mental systems. When he had finally managed to beam Geordi back aboard, he had been unconscious, muddied, and 0.0004% more radioactive than normal.

Data had transported him to sickbay personally, whereupon he had immediately handed his unconscious boyfriend over to the good doctor. At the time, he was uncertain of his romantic responsibilities. It was clearer a few weeks ago, when their relationship had been platonic but professional. Data would have waited until Dr. Crusher began her treatment and then departed to resume his duties.

But he was dating Geordi, now. He had … duties.

Surely it was expected of him to stay. He had witnessed romantic partners remain by their other’s sides for hours at a time in sickbay, thusly so, Data remained by Geordi’s side. While he could understand the need to provide emotional support, he did not rationally know why he had to stay. It was not as if he could provide verbal support to his unconscious boyfriend.

Eventually, he had been called away to the bridge. Dr. Crusher had informed him at the end of his shift that Geordi still had not woken, but that he would likely do so by morning.

He did not know if he was internalizing _worry _about his partner’s condition. He knew that he had run the statistical probabilities of what could have happened to Geordi, over and over, before he forcefully shut down that subroutine and initiated his sleep program.

Frustratingly, one of his dream routine’s random outputs resulting in a scenario where Geordi perished in sickbay, alone and in pain and calling out for him. It was likely a bug in the program that he had not yet fixed. He would fix that.

Geordi had not yet responded to his text message yet. Data sent the same message again, and still Geordi did not respond. He prepared to resend it, before coming to the realization that could be constituted as “clingy” behavior. Geordi was perhaps not near his communicator, and did not have the advantage of mental communication as Data did.

He would visit him personally in sickbay. Data was cautious and uncertain in most aspects of their relationship, but Geordi was patient and complimentary. If visiting him in sickbay was inappropriate behavior given their relationship status, Geordi would inform him as much.

Data allowed Spot to finish her breakfast in peace as he exited his quarters, immediately setting himself on a course towards the medical department. He knew he would have been woken if anything serious happened to Geordi during the night, but nonetheless, he knew his joints would not relax until he saw his boyfriend.

Dr. Crusher was standing by a rack of tricorders when Data came in, manually assessing their functionality. She put the PADD down when Data approached. “Good morning, Data,” she informed him with a kind smile. “I take it you’re looking for our chief engineer?”

“Good morning, doctor. Yes.” There was no Geordi here. It was unlikely but possible that he had been shifted to another bed, perhaps even his own quarters. “Has his condition changed from when I was last present?”

“I’ll say.” She turns toward him, hands on her hips in surprise. “He woke up a few hours ago, which is still much longer for him to be out than I expected. He shouldn’t have been unconscious for more than an hour, maximum.”

“Why is that, doctor?”

“My theory is that, as his matter started to re-organize itself, he started to suffocate in the transporter. Now, passing out? Sure. But staying unconscious for twelve hours? That’s unusual.”

The phrase _he started to suffocate _seemed to engrave itself in Data’s circuits. _Your partner, _he told himself, _started to suffocate. _Data looked at her in silence, unable to form a reply in that moment. _Suffocate? _His mind picked apart at the word weakly. 

“When he woke up, he was completely fine. Not light-headed at all, not unnerved. A little quieter than usual, maybe, but completely ready to work.”

“That is unsurprising. Lieutenant La Forge is almost always ready to work.”

“His blood pressure levels agree with you,” Beverly teased him. “I’ve placed him on medical leave for a day. I don’t know why he was out so long, but I’m not going to take any risks. If you’re not busy, can you do me a favor and check up on him? I want to make sure he hasn’t brought any work to his quarters with him.”

Data was not, using the general definition of the term, ‘busy’. He was running several dozen minor processes in the back of his mind, but that required very little of his conscious attention. When they were completed, they would automatically be categorized appropriately. “I will, doctor. Thank you for your assistance in this matter.”

“It’s no problem. We’re lucky he didn’t experience any worse effects. Ion storms are unpredictable. He could have been seriously hurt.”

“Do you believe I should recommend that he speak with Counselor Troi?” Data asked. “I am unequipped to answer if he would be emotionally impacted by such an event.”

“It can’t hurt. For what it’s worth, he seemed fine when he woke up.” Beverly paused in thought, one finger on her cheek. “Like I said, quiet. He just wanted to go back to work.”

Data had already sent a mental message to the counselor’s device. Usually, he would request her assistance over the shipboard communicators, but this was more efficient. In the case of Geordi’s mental health, Data ranked being efficient over being human. “Thank you, doctor,” he informed her, before turning to exit the sickbay.

Data stood in front of the nearest ship monitor. “Computer, where is the location of Lieutenant La Forge?”

“Lieutenant La Forge is outside Engineering Deck 4.”

Ah, so Geordi was going to directly disregard Dr. Crusher’s orders for medical leave. That was an act of insubordination, and Data would report him appropriately if that were the truth. He did not imagine much would come of it. Captain Picard rarely punished crewmembers for working too hard, though he did sit down with them and speak about the importance of a work-life balance. Data always found that strange and faintly hypocritical, as the Captain did not often take that advice for himself.

_Geordi, Dr. Crusher has placed you on medical leave. Why are you on the Engineering decks? _

No response. Data was beginning to suspect that Geordi was outright ignoring him, rather than not possessing his communicator. That was troubling. Did he upset Geordi? Perhaps Geordi had been upset that he had woken and Data had not been there. He tried verbal communication, over the comm-badge. “Commander Data to Lieutenant La Forge.”

Nothing. No response. He heard the comm-badge ding a few seconds later. “Commander Riker to Lieutenant La Forge.” Riker was attempting to communicate with Geordi on his behalf. When he received no response from the Engineer, the comm-badge responded, “Commander Riker to Lieutenant Commander Data.”

“Lieutenant Commander Data. It is not urgent, Commander. I will physically find him in Engineering.”

“Alright. Make sure he has his comm-badge on him. And hasn’t he been put on medical leave?

“Yes, sir. Understood, Commander Riker, I will make certain that Lieutenant La Forge has his comm-badge.”

Although Data understood that most of Starfleet regulation was steeped in tradition and respect, he could not help but think that titles made communication just slightly more inefficient in the long run.

He stood in the turbolift, requesting Engineering Deck 4. Ideally, he would find Geordi, politely remind him of the doctor’s medical order, express concern equivalent for a new romantic partner, and guide him back to his quarters for rest. Data pledged himself to wait with him until he fell asleep, as a romantic partner should, before he resumed his duties.

As soon as the turbolift doors opened, Data saw a flash of yellow walk briskly by. Geordi was attempting to enter the warp core engine room.

“Geordi,” Data interrupted, breaking out into a small jog. He caught up with him easily. “You have not been answering your communicator.”

Geordi tripped somewhat when he saw him, but nonetheless kept walking. Data kept pace beside him. He did not look at Data as he walked, but instead kept his gaze fixed straight ahead. “Yeah. It must be broken.” And yet, it was not on his person?

“Then it must be fixed immediately.”

“I’ll get to it.” Geordi paused outside the room to place his hand on the door, and then, once the door granted access, stepped inside.

Data followed him, a shadow over his shoulder. Geordi stepped up to the consoles on the table. The bright blue lights reflected off his face, highlighting his determined gaze. “You are meant to be on medical leave, Geordi. Are you feeling well? I waited by your bedside when you were unconscious.” _Did I do the right thing? _

“I _know.” _Geordi muttered in exasperation, which made Data’s face fall. He made a few movements on the console and Data saw one of the panels on the warp core spring open, fifteen feet above the main catwalk.

Many minor warp core functions could be accessed by the console in front of them. Anything large – such as moderating the energy fluctuations of the dilithium crystals – required a tool and an experienced engineer to manipulate on the engine core structure. That was because those modifications were generally _not _recommended, and indeed, had the potential to overload the system and destroy the entire ship.

And now, Geordi had pushed himself away from the terminal to go over to the engine core.

“Geordi, as your romantic partner, I have concerns – “

“That’s great. Don’t you have work to do?” Geordi snapped at him, shrugging Data’s hand off of his shoulder. The motion was cold, as if Data’s hand on him was both repulsive and a burden. “I have this handled, android.”

That was a new nickname that Data personally was not fond of, but he would inform Geordi of his distaste for it later. It was cruel. He looked up at the now-open panel as Geordi reached for an instrument. “I was not made aware of any repairs that needed to be made of the warp core.” Data blinked, running a swift diagnostic. “Geordi, the warp core is running at optimal levels. No repairs are needed.”

Geordi placed the end of his instrument between his teeth as he reached for another. That was not safety procedure. Once he obtained both instruments, he shifted them to one hand. Geordi grasped next to his own belt, but he found nothing but air. What did he think was there? Geordi let out an annoyed sigh and went to the ladder next to the warp core.

Why was his partner ignoring him? What was more, why was Geordi beginning to climb the ladder to the open panel?

Now, Geordi had broken enough regulations for Data to take action. “As your senior officer, Geordi, I must command that you stop this and return to your quarters.”

Geordi continued to climb.

There was a minor disparity in their ranks – Geordi was a Lieutenant, whereas Data was a Lieutenant Commander. Data had quietly asked if this would introduce an unhealthy power imbalance into their relationship, and if so, whether it could be managed or if a relationship between them was infeasible.

Geordi had commented that he was no expert in things like that, and such a question was probably better addressed to Counselor Troi. But, he had continued, if they kept their professional issues away from their personal life – surely they would be fine. It wasn’t as if Data was his direct supervisor.

Data had a concern that Geordi _himself _didn’t separate his professional issues away from his personal life, but it had not been a problem so far.

Still, exerting his rank over Geordi was discomforting. Even moreso when Geordi directly disobeyed a direct order. He was six feet above the ground, now, halfway up the ladder, and he kept going.

“Geordi!” Data called up to him, his voice no higher than a hissed whisper. He could no longer feign his surprise. “What are you _doing!?” _

And yet, no response. Geordi kept climbing, instruments in hand. Data placed his hand on the ladder, easily scaling the rungs far faster than his human friend could. Soon, he was right up against Geordi’s feet. He shifted his weight to one hand and reached up to grasp Geordi by the ankle, stopping him from going any further.

That provoked a reaction, at least. Geordi scowled, trying to shake his leg free from Data’s grasp. Data did not budge. “Get _off _of me, you tin can!”

Tin can?

Data did not understand. He did not understand any of this. “Geordi, come down here,” he ordered, firm. Geordi tried to stretch up to reach the panel, but he came a few inches too short. Data gave his leg a tight tug downwards. “Now.”

Geordi responded by maneuvering his foot so he could kick Data directly in the side of his head.

Given the advanced interwoven polymer configuration of his head, Data did not suspect any permanent damage. His pain receptors did fire somewhat (Geordi had impacted him directly in his temple, which was a sensitive portion of his body), but he was not disoriented and his grip did not falter. More than anything, the impact only stupefied him.

Geordi had intentionally _kicked _him. He was one of the most gentle people that Data had ever met, and Geordi had _kicked _him.

“I said get _off,” _Geordi grumbled. Although he continued trying to shake his leg out of Data’s grasp, Data gripped harder to prevent him from making too much progress. Awkwardly, he reached for his comm-badge.

“Lieutenant Commander Data to Security. Report to warp core engine room. Lieutenant La Forge is attempting to damage the engine core.”

“_Damn it.” _Above him, Geordi heard the command and tried to pull himself further up the ladder. Data’s grip disallowed him. If he wanted, he could yank Geordi off the ladder, but he didn’t want to hurt his boyfriend. “You useless waste of scrap metal. Let me _go.” _

Data didn’t understand. He did not understand what he had done to inspire such ire in Geordi, nor why Geordi would do this, no matter how angry he was. Had he misread the situation so entirely that he had caused this to happen?

It took only a few minutes before the Security team filed into the engine room, a clatter of boots. “Lieutenant La Forge,” Worf commanded. “Cease in your attempts to damage the engine core.”

Above him, Geordi sighed and set his forehead on one of the rungs. So quietly that Data was positive that he was the only one to hear, “The only thing I hate more than androids. Fucking _Klingons.” _

“Lieutenant Worf is your friend,” Data corrected, shocked. “Please do not make him incapacitate you.”

“_Incapacitate. _Right.” In front of him, Geordi looked up at the warp core panel, and then down at Data, and then at the chief of security standing with phaser drawn. He sighed. “Let go of me, Commander,” Geordi requested in a monotone, clearly tired. “I’ll come down.”

Data did as asked. He released Geordi’s ankle and slid to the ground. At first, he worried that Geordi would continue to go against orders, but slowly, Geordi began to climb down from the ladder.

When Geordi’s feet were finally on the catwalk, Data put a hand on his shoulder. He did not intend it as a professional gesture, but reaching out for his friend – what was going on? Regardless, Geordi frowned at him and yanked his shoulder away. “Lieutenant La Forge, you will be transported to the brig.” Worf’s voice was shocked, and Data could understand the sentiment. “For intentional and malignant intent to damage vital workings of the _USS Enterprise.” _

“Lieutenant Worf.” Data broke in in Geordi’s defense. “Is that truly necessary? If he is simply transported to his quarters – “

“Yes.” Worf was taking no arguments. He put his own hand on Geordi’s shoulder, though this was more of an effort to guide him than a friendly act of comfort. Geordi inclined his face down, VISOR staring at the floor.

Worf guided him out of the engine room. The security team followed suit. Data watched after them blankly until he could no longer hear or see prisoner nor guards. Silently, he went back to the engineering console to close the panel that Geordi had opened. He would have to inform the Captain about this.

-

“Can you tell me, in your own words, what happened with you and Geordi today?” Troi asked Data. He was lying back on the couch in her office, his hands politely folded over his stomach.

Geordi was currently in the brig, and the entire bridge crew had been informed of the situation. There had been a brief meeting where Data and Worf explained the facts of what had happened. Dr. Crusher had been sent to perform a physical on Geordi and the others had resumed their posts. Troi had stopped Data as he planned to head out and asked if he had a spare moment.

He wanted to explain to her that she had already listened to Data explain the situation in the conference room, but Data realized that was not what she meant. That had been a formal report. This was his personal experience.

“I found Geordi outside of Engineering, violating Dr. Crusher’s orders to place him on medical leave. I instructed him to return to his quarters, and he refused. I instructed him to cease working, and he refused. I instructed him to stop trying to manipulate the engine core, and he refused. I pulled rank in order to command him, and he refused.” Data explained, reliving it through his own memory banks. Geordi had been so cold to him. Certainly, Geordi had days where he was in a bad mood and was, at worst, dismissive and impatient – but he was never _cold. _

“Dr. Crusher fixed some superficial polymer damage on your head. He kicked you?”

“He did. I resorted to physical intimidation in order to prevent him from damaging the ship. I did not let go of his leg.”

“Resorted to?” Troi leaned forward on her chair, concerned. “Are you implying that you believe you acted in error?”

“Yes. My understanding of social situations is improving, but it is still, as compared to most humans, below average. Clearly, I made a social judgement error that resulted in Geordi refusing to listen to me.”

Beside him, Troi chuckled. Data shifted his body to look at her, perplexed.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t funny.”

“You are making a noise typically associated with human amusement?”

“I’m only surprised at you, Data, that you’re blaming yourself for all this.”

“I have been parsing through my memory banks for a few weeks. The only major difference in Geordi’s routine is the initiation of our romantic relationship.” Data explained carefully. “Therefore, my conclusion is that some aspect of our relationship drastically altered his core personality. Some aspect of my behavior in our relationship changed him.”

“Changed him enough so that he’d intentionally try to sabotage the ship?”

It was difficult to think that Data had acted badly enough to drive Geordi to _that, _but, perhaps … “Is there any other explanation?”

“Data.” Troi’s voice was lightly reprimanding. “I’m telling you, right now, that your influence and behavior towards Geordi had _nothing _to do with what he did.” Data twisted himself to look at her again. “Geordi has been meeting with me about your relationship. Not with concerns, but to receive advice about how to best approach common issues that occur in relationships. He realizes the differences between you two, and wants to know how to prepare for any future issues in advance.” Her lips split into a smile. “Now, does that sound like the behavior of a man who hates his relationship so much that he’d sabotage the ship over it?”

“It does not.” Strictly speaking, Data did not think that he was permitted to know about the specifics of Troi’s meetings. Crewmembers often spoke freely in front of him. Either way, Data had the implicit obligation not to spread confidential information. “Geordi was satisfied with our relationship?” He asked, curious.

Data had never been more uncertain of himself than he had been with Geordi. At two weeks, four days, four hours, and thirty-seven minutes, this was the longest relationship that he had ever engaged in. Even being close with Geordi before the relationship initiated, Data often found himself fumbling in romantic actions. Dates were unusual to him. There were times when it was appropriate to hold Geordi’s hand, and times when it was not. He had waited in place for six hours when Geordi had fallen asleep on his shoulder, only for Geordi to lightly chastise him for remaining still for that long just for Geordi’s sake.

The relationship, nonetheless, was fulfilling. It gave him pause to think that Geordi might have secretly regretted it, with a loathing so intense that he’d take down the ship over it.

Troi was smiling at him. That was a good sign, perhaps. “He was, Data. He only met with me because he wanted to be what you needed out of a relationship.” She crossed her legs in her chair. “Do you remember last week, when you and I were talking in Ten-Forward? Geordi came in, and I sensed this sudden burst of happiness from him when his eyes landed on you. It was … sweet.”

Sweet. Geordi had experienced joy when he looked at him. Data could not say that he had the exact same experience (being, after all, an emotionless being), but he had grown used to Geordi’s sensory input. To go without it was depressing. To see him again was stimulating.

In that case, Data’s confusion only deepened. “But Counselor, he has never acted violently against me before. He used derogatory terms for me – android, useless, scrap metal. He has never shown any indication of feeling that way before.”

“I wish I had a better answer to give you.” Troi informed him unhappily. “We’re still trying to determine why Geordi would act that way. The most obvious hypothesis we’re working with is that the damage he sustained during the transporter accident was deeper than we initially thought. I just wanted to make sure you knew that it’s nothing you’ve done. I wanted to check on how you were feeling about it.”

Perhaps. If so, he did not like to think of Geordi in any additional pain. “Thank you for your concern, Counselor, but there is no need.” Data sat up from his position, turning towards Troi and placing his feet on the floor. “I cannot feel.”

Troi shot him a withering look as his communicator notified him. “Dr. Crusher to Lieutenant Commander Data. If you’ve got a minute, could you come and see me in sickbay? I have a few questions to ask you.”

-

When Data entered sickbay, he noticed that Geordi was out of the brig. He was also unconscious and shirtless, lying on a biobed in a room that otherwise held no patients. Dr. Crusher was bending over him with a portable electromagnetic emitter. As she ran it across Geordi’s body, the main viewscreen followed along with an X-ray.

Data’s attention was temporarily taken by Geordi’s bare torso. He had seen it before – incidents during away missions, generally. Most recently, he had seen it as Geordi changed into his nightclothes before they watched a film together. He recalled that memory as he looked down at his torso, now.

Those scars weren’t in that memory.

The most noticeable was a keloid scar that followed the curve of Geordi’s left shoulder, and another smaller one that rested on the top of his sternum. Others were dotted here and there across his arms and ribcage, clearly of vastly differing ages. This was the look of a man who had lived a hard life, fraught with injury.

“You’re noticing too, huh?” Dr. Crusher asked him. She moved the emitter to Geordi’s ribcage. “Look at this.”

They looked up at the viewscreen together. Data saw healed fractured dotted along Geordi’s ribcage like pieces of string. They had been broken many times. Crusher moved it to Geordi’s arm. There were fewer there, but still more than the ‘zero’ Data had expected.

“These injuries do not correspond to what I know about Geordi’s medical file.”

“That’s why I asked you to come in, Data. I can’t find _any _report, anywhere, that would explain where Geordi had gotten all these. The only way he would have these and have it unlisted in his file would be if he went to a non-Starfleet doctor. You know him best on the ship. Do you have _any _idea where he would have received these injuries?

Data filtered through every known memory he had of Geordi talking about his pre-Starfleet past in less than a second.

“No. From what he has told me, Geordi had a safe, fairly uneventful life. Both of his parents were enrolled in Starfleet. It would be rational to believe that the only doctors he has visited in his lifetime are Starfleet personnal.”

“And his Starfleet file dates back to when he was a baby – I have even have the record of his birth in there. _I’ve _looked at his body before, and I haven’t seen these.” Dr. Crusher summarized. She continued looking over him, noting injuries here and there in her file.

Data began to notice other, more minute differences in this man’s appearance. His beard growth was not consistent with when Data had last seen him. In gazing across Geordi’s torso, Data also noticed a minor discrepancy in body weight. Geordi’s VISOR acquired damage naturally from use, but the damage from Geordi’s VISOR and this VISOR were different. This VISOR had been repaired with different, inferior materials that likely would affect Geordi’s cone of vision.

This began to grow stranger and stranger. He and Dr. Crusher began to note these differences to one another, and the list grew and grew.

Data began create another hypothesis. At first, it seemed so statistically absurd that he didn’t even vocalize it out loud. Of course that was not the case. It simply could not be. And yet, as an hour passed, Data failed to see how this could be rationalized in any other way.

“Data,” Dr. Crusher murmured in horror, reviewing the notes they had collected so far to themselves. “I don’t think this is Geordi La Forge.”


	2. The Strength of the Mirror

In the conference room, Dr. Crusher had summarized their findings. The next step was obvious, but there was some disagreement about who should be the one to talk to this imposter Geordi. It was agreed that it should be someone who this Not-Geordi recognized, which left only Worf and Data. Data had mimicked (with perfect accuracy) what Not-Geordi had said about Klingons, and then it was down to Data.

Which was why he was standing outside of the brig cell, watching Not-Geordi wake up from his sedation. He had been given a clean uniform to wear. With his torso covered and body relaxed, it was difficult to see that this Not-Geordi was an imposter. And yet, Data was now certain of it.

“You are feigning sleep,” Data accused after a few minutes. “Your cyclical breathing patterns do not match those of a truly unconscious individual.”

“Hnh.” Not-Geordi grunted. “Nobody in your sickbay noticed. That was how I managed to stay in there so long. ‘His breathing’s normal and his brain activity’s fine, I’m not sure why he isn’t waking up.”

“On the _Enterprise, _we do not intentionally deceive our medical personnel. That is also a mean-spirited impression of the doctor. ”

“_This _Enterprise, sure.” Data did not know what he meant by that. Not-Geordi sat up on his bed and faced him. He shot a smile, but it was not Geordi’s smile. It was cruel and mocking, as if he were in disbelief. “So, I’m _actually _dating an android. Would you believe that’s the weirdest thing I’ve heard since I’ve gotten here?”

“I do not find it excessively unusual.” Data did not want to appear defensive, but it was a tender point for him. Even members of the bridge crew had been hesitant when news of their relationship reached their ears, and while Data had not been expecting perfect and obedient acceptance … their reactions had deflated him nonetheless. “Where is your point of origin?”

“Why, I thought you’d know. The _Enterprise.” _

“That is impossible. You are clearly not the same Geordi that beamed out of the _Enterprise.” _

“Well, clearly, the switch happened when he was trying to beam _onto _the _Enterprise_; meanwhile, I was trying to beam _off _the _Enterprise._ Technically. Androids like technicalities, don’t they?” Not-Geordi was, for some reason very amused at himself. “You know, maybe it’s not a bad idea. Have someone around to keep the quarters clean, organize my files, warm my bed - I mean, as much as an android can warm anything.”

“You are attempting to be intentionally hurtful. That is a fruitless endeavor, as I do not possess feelings to be hurt. You are also a stranger to me, so your words would not have an impact regardless of my android status.”

Not-Geordi did not seem dissuaded by Data’s correction, but instead continued. The voice was too similar to his own friend, and even if Data swore to himself that he possessed no feeling … it was not very pleasant to hear such words them. “We don’t make them like you where I come from. Androids? Sure. But they only do what you tell them to. They _definitely _don’t talk back.”

“I asked you previously where you came from and received an insufficient answer. I will ask a different question. Why were you attempting to sabotage the _Enterprise _engines?”

At the question, Not-Geordi stood and approached the photonic barrier, now only a foot or two away from Data. Data was not an expert in body language, but this not-Geordi held himself differently from his boyfriend. Data was significantly taller, and yet, it was as if Not-Geordi was looking down his nose at him.

“Sabotaging the _Enterprise _engines was an _understatement_ of what I wanted to do. I wanted to, uh, _overclock _them. You know. Make them do a little overtime.” Data did not want to bother correcting his technical inaccuracies. “So, did they not have any living people to interrogate me?”

“I am living,” Data responded dismissively. “What was your main purpose in sabotaging the engines?” A game of back-and-forth was acceptable, so long as he received some back as he gave some forth. He suspected that Not-Geordi’s insistent questions at him were more of an attempt to exert power over him than true curiosity.

“I wanted to go back home. You know, you’d get this information out of me a lot easier if you used an agonizer. 20 questions is _okay_, but a little boring for a first date. Do people _seriously _take orders from you, Commander?”

“Yes. What is an agonizer?” It was not expressly related to the situation at hand, but any information about where Not-Geordi came from would assist in locating Real Geordi. Currently, the most reasonable prediction was that they had simply switched, somehow, and Geordi was wherever Not-Geordi came from.

<strike>If Geordi did not die upon energizing.</strike>

Not-Geordi drew the edge of his uniform shirt to the side, showing the keloid scar that Data had seen easier. “You don’t have them here? Shame. We have them on our ship, right next to the transport bay. Easy access, y’know. They cause massive amounts of pain – basically, when you’re in one, you’re absolutely _positive _that you’re going to die because of it. You’re grateful for it.” Geordi’s tongue passed over his front teeth. “You won’t believe the kind of information people give up when they think they’re a goner. Do you feel pain, Data?”

Horrific. Was Geordi there? Was Geordi in one of those machines at that very second? The idea of Geordi in pain, agony, _wanting to die _was enough to make Data coldly desperate.

He dropped some of his human aspects – he no longer breathed, or blinked, or deliberately softened his face. Face indecipherable, he stepped forward until the tip of his nose was nearly brushing the barrier. There was no more time for games.

“Where are you from?”

“I told you. The _Enterprise. _Just, you know, not this one.” Not-Geordi elaborated with a wave of his hand. “I figure I somehow crossed universes. Out of everything we see on a weekly basis, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen to me.”

Ah. An entirely different universe. Simple. That made sense, even if a few laws of physics were broken. With the power fluctuations from the storm they had passed through, it could broadly extend the transporter’s range – even, perhaps, through time and space. In that case … “You wanted to overpower the _Enterprise _engines to recreate the circumstances that brought you here,” Data surmised.

“Yeah. Before you got in my way.”

“Your actions would have led to the destruction of the ship. The loss of hundreds of lives.”

“So?” Not-Geordi asked, tilting his head to the side. “What, am I supposed to care about any of you? As soon as I’m back in my own universe, this one isn’t going to matter to me at all. I’d destroy the entire thing to get back. Don’t you understand?” He approached the barrier, so closely that Data could see the whites of his eyes. “You. Don’t. Matter.”

Data did not respond to him. Instead, he pressed against his comm-badge. “Lieutenant Commander Data to Engineering. Attempt to unscramble the entrant coordinates from the last transport beam. When you have determined the coordinates, attempt to focus the beam objective. It will be some distance, so inform the bridge if we must maneuver the ship closer.” Data predicted that it was some sort of slingshot array – if they beamed Not-Geordi to the ion storm, the power fluctuations would shoot him directly back into his own universe – and, he hoped, Geordi back here. There was no guarantee of that, however.

Not-Geordi was incredulous. “You’re trying to send me back?”

Data nodded once, reading for his PADD and taking on a few of the calculations they were making. Data knew he could do them more quickly.

“Why would _you _help _me?” _

“Because, Lieutenant,” Data looked up at him curtly. “We do not want you here.”

That got an honest chuckle out of Geordi as he went back to his bed, laying down on it and staring up at the ceiling of the brig. “Aw. So romantic. Love you, too.”

“In return, I request you do something for us.” Not-Geordi snorted in front of him. Data was under the impression that he was about to ask a useless question, for this man would not listen anyway. “If Geordi –_ the correct _Geordi – has been transported to your universe, please use the same coordinates to send him back here to his _Enterprise.” _

“Hah!” Geordi’s barked laugh was cruel. “What makes you think he’s still alive over there?”

Data was silent. He had considered that possibility and shut it down before he could even conceptualize it, that Geordi could have successfully beamed over to the other universe … and been killed almost immediately. He did not like that thought. “I’m just saying,” Not-Geordi continued, whimsically musing, “Given from what I’ve seen over here, your me wouldn’t last more than five minutes. He’d probably have a heart attack just looking at the agonizer. So, what, if I promise to send him back over here, you’ll promise to send me back over there?”

“No.” Data thought he’d been clear on that point. “We will send you back regardless. I am asking you to send Lieutenant La Forge back over here.”

“Out of the kindness of my heart, you mean?”

“No.” There was no kindness in Not-Geordi’s heart. He placed the PADD back down as he finished the calculations. Data wanted to go to the transporter bay and confirm them. He suspected that they only had one chance to do this correctly. If they failed, if they did not land on the proverbial head of a pin, then Not-Geordi would be dead in space. “I am asking you to because I miss him, and his place is on this _Enterprise, _alive. It would be little effort for you to simply send him back.”

“It would be little effort for me to simply toss him out the airlock, too,” Not-Geordi considered, arms behind his head.

-

Six more hours had passed between his conversation with Not-Geordi and the final preparations in the transporter bay. In total, Geordi had been gone for 40 hours and 13 minutes. He needed to survive for perhaps a half-hour more, and that was all, but Data was uncertain of how to calculate his rate of survival.

“Come to lead me to my death?” Not-Geordi asked as Data approached the barrier. His eyes fell on the holocuffs that Data held in his hands. “Oh, come on. You don’t have to do that. You’re giving me what I want.”

Data considered this and then nodded, placing the cuffs into his pocket. The barrier disappeared and Not-Geordi stepped out into the corridor. In doing so, Not-Geordi saw Worf, standing just to the side of the photonic barrier. “You know,” he remarked as he stared Worf down, “In my universe, I wouldn’t even hesitate – you’d be dead right now.”

“I would like to see you try, Lieutenant La Forge.” Worf growled. Flanking him on either side, Worf and Data started to walk Not-Geordi to the transporter bay. Data could not help but experience a sensation of uncertainty. He had calculated the figures over and over, of course, but were they enough to risk a Geordi’s life over?

Regardless, he could tell that Not-Geordi and Worf were glaring at one another as they walked down the corridor, and Worf inadvertently murdering him before they even placed him on the transporter pad would be unacceptable. “If the rest of the individuals in Starfleet are as hostile as this man, then I would predict that the Klingon people and the Federation are aggressive with one another in his universe. I would not take any words of his as a personal slight.”

Worf growled nonetheless, and Not-Geordi made a similar noise at the implication. Still, nobody argued the veracity of his words.

“This isn’t the strangest thing that the transporter’s been used for,” Chief O’Brien postulated as the trio arrived. “But it is up there, I’ll tell you that.”

“Indeed,” Picard agreed from his spot beside him. Most of the bridge crew had arrived. Although Not-Geordi was no threat to anyone while in the brig, news of what had happened had passed around the ship. Data make eye contact with Troi, who gave him a firm smile. “We shouldn’t waste any more time. Commander Data, if you will do the honors?”

Worf left his side, leaving Data alone with the prisoner. Wordlessly, Data walked up with him up to the transporter pad. Not-Geordi stood appropriately and gave Data a quirked smile. “Well. It’s been fun, Commander, hasn’t it?”

“No. I have not enjoyed our time together, and I do not want to see you again. Chief O’Brien?” Data queried, stepping back from the transporter beam.

He meant it. Seeing the small imperfections with how Not-Geordi conducted himself, Data was ever more eager to see his authentic partner again. Data locked eyes with Not-Geordi as Not-Geordi began to laugh. He threw his head back, guffawing at some unspoken joke as he dissolved into light and was transported across, hopefully, the universe.

And just like that, it was as if Not-Geordi had never been there at all.

“Well,” O’Brien chuckled. “That’s that, then. When d’you think that he’ll be sending the real La Forge back?”

The Captain hesitated for a second, as everyone in the room suddenly came to the realization that they had no idea when –or if -- that would occur, or that Not-Geordi had even reached his universe. For all they knew, his particles could be blasted deep into subspace. “If he has not returned in two hours, we will reconvene to discuss the matter,” Picard announced. “Everyone, return to your duties. For now.”

“Captain,” Data found himself blurting suddenly. “May I wait in the transporter bay? My current calculations have yet to finish.”

Picard seemed to hesitate. Data was a vital member of the crew, after all, and he would not be surprised of Picard commanded him to return to his duties. Data would not argue. He could not even say, for certain, _why _he wanted to stay. What could he do? Finally, Picard just nodded at him solemnly. “You may. Others, you are dismissed.” One by one, they filed out of the transporter bay. Troi gave Data a concerned look and he returned the gaze steadily, before he turned towards Chief O’Brien.

“You worried about him, Commander?” Miles asked, cautiously optimistic.

“Worry implies an emotion that I do not possess.” Data articulated. “However, I have estimated his chances of survival and find that there are too many unknowns to achieve a reasonable value. For that reason, I would like to remain here to wait. If it does not distract you from your duties.”

“No, sir. The company might be nice, actually. This entire business – I don’t like the feeling that I can look someone in the eye that I’ve known for years and realize it’s not them.”

“I can understand why that would be troubling.”

“Yeah. You wonder what you’re like over there? I mean, myself … if they’re all that rude over there, I hope to God above that I’m not a father. Can’t imagine what kind of model that’d set for the wean, or if she’d be evil herself – _ugh._” O’Brien winced.

Data considered it. “Not-Geordi mentioned that they do not ‘make them like me’ over there. Therefore, I can only presume that I do not have a counterpart in that universe. If I do, he would not be as advanced, nor as independent, as I am here.” The thought was strange to him. There was a universe where he did not have friends, or free will, or perhaps even true sentience.

He was suddenly, intensely grateful for the actions of his father. He liked being alive.

“Yeah.” Miles paused a beat. “You call him Not-Geordi? That’s … I don’t know.”

“It is accurate, is it not?”

“I mean, he _is _Geordi. Just not _our _Geordi, you know, not _your _Geordi.”

Ah, Data understood the error. “While it would perhaps be more technically accurate to refer to him in such a way, Geordi does not enjoy his romantic partners referring to him in the possessive. I once called him _my _Geordi in private, and he responded with –” Here, Data accessed his memory banks to replicate Geordi’s voice perfectly. “_Yeah, let’s pass on that one, Data.”_

O’Brien reacted as if he wanted to argue, but decided against it. Instead he shrugged and returned to his readings, while Data turned to stare at the transporter pad. He did not want to miss Geordi’s entrance.

So, together, he and O’Brien waited.

And waited.

And waited.

On the stroke of exactly two hours, Data finally moved from his position. He took one hesitant, still step towards the pad. Geordi had not re-energized. He had not been transported over. Either he was dead, or the other universe had decided not to give him back. Both scenarios troubled him.

“Chief O’Brien, inform the Captain that we need to reconvene,” Data reported carefully as he stood directly on the pad. He did not know what he expected to see there, but somehow, it seemed to verify his conclusion: “Geordi has not returned.”

-

Although the mood in the conference room before had been cautiously optimistic, Data noted by the expressions on faces and the tones of words that people were despairing. He waited patiently at the end of the table as O’Brien debriefed the Captain. There wasn’t much to debrief him on. Nothing had happened, at all. They could not even be certain that the transport had worked.

“Thank you,” Picard informed the transport chief. He turned towards the rest of the team. “Options.”

Riker spoke first. “The way I see it, there are only two. We’ve tried every sensor we have in order to determine whether he’s even alive, and we have no physical evidence that we have. Either we try to send someone there or we officially register Lieutenant La Forge as missing in action.”

Missing in action. Geordi’s family would be … sad. The crew would be sad, as well. Data would be as close to sad as metal and polymers could manage.

“From what I’ve sensed of the other Geordi, his home universe must be very violent.” Deanna broke in. “Even if we did manage to send someone over, we couldn’t guarantee their safety. They’d be in constant danger.”

“I can attest to that. I noted that the other Geordi had considerable injuries on him. He’s been hurt, a _lot. _It isn’t safe over there.”

Worf made a displeased grunt. “We should not even be considering it. We have no guarantee that we transported him back into the right universe. If we knew it worked, I would volunteer to go myself. But we can’t waste another officer’s _life – _“

“Even if it means potentially saving Geordi’s life?” Troi interrupted.

Picard sighed and rubbed his hand over his forehead. Data understood his frustration. It did not bode well when the senior staff couldn’t agree, and they had so little information to go on. He prioritized crewmember safety above all, but there was so much risk involved. Would he take the gamble and risk two crewmember lives, or play it safe and only lose one?

It was a relatively simple calculation to make. In a perfectly mechanical reality, it would be overall safer to leave Geordi for dead in the other universe. There were too many unknowns to make a viable argument otherwise.

But … leaving Geordi for dead?”

“You’ve been very quiet, Data,” Picard murmured to him, quiet. “You’re the closest person to this entire matter. What say you?”

_Would you like the calculations, Captain? Would you like my determination that rescuing Lieutenant La Forge would pose unacceptable risk to the Enterprise, and therefore it would be the most logical, rational solution to leave him there forever? _

His mouth was hanging open, but he could not will himself to say the words. That was unusual. He shut it, considered his duty to the ship and her people, and then spoke something else altogether.

“I volunteer to go to the other universe. If there are unacceptable physiological conditions in the transporter beam, I would be able to survive. If it becomes clear that I still remain in this universe and the transport has not worked, Chief O’Brien would ideally be able to beam me back.”

“Even with the electromagnestism produced by the ion storm? I can’t imagine that’d be very good for an android, Data,” Riker broke in, overhearing.

Data paused. “It is a risk,” he concluded.

He did not envy the Captain for his decision. Picard regarded him warily. The loss of both his chief engineer _and _his second officer would be catastrophic for the ship. Data blinked at him once.

It was not the most rational decision, but Data concluded that it was the only correct one to take. All other plans were wrong.

“Are you certain, Commander?” Picard was asking him in a gentle tone. “You don’t know what you would face in the other universe.”

“Presumably, every person at this table has a counterpart in the other universe. Lieutenant Worf may have one outside the _Enterprise_, but he is yet a Klingon. They would likely cause panic and suspicion. He revealed to me that I was the most advanced android he had ever seen, implying that he had never seen an android like me before. I would be able to move undetected.”

“Or, people would panic at seeing an advanced android suddenly strolling around their ship.”

“That is also a possibility.”

All eyes moved to Picard, the decision-maker. He fell silent as he thought. Data was surprised by how much he _wanted _this. He wanted to help. He wanted to save his romantic partner, to make certain he was okay.

Picard’s fingers clasped together on the table. “I won’t ask this of you, Commander.” He advised firmly. “But if you’re certain, I’ll meet you in the transporter bay.”

-

Again, Data found himself on the transporter pad. He had a bag fastened around his shoulder. It was the same supplies brought by an away team – he supposed, technically, this was an away mission. A tricorder was carefully nestled in it, as well as a dermal regenerator and a few hyposprays for various injuries. He hoped that he would not need them. After a moment’s pause, Data took off his comm-badge and placed it in the bag. He had changed into a neutral outfit of greens and grays before arriving. No matter the circumstance, it would not do well to advertise his affiliation to Starfleet.

“Are you ready, Commander?” Chief O’Brien asked him. Picard was standing next to him, face grave. “I’m all set to beam you over.”

Data did not fear. There was the possibility that he would be beamed directly to empty space, in which case, his durability did not matter. His internal pressure equilibrator would be overworked, and he would explode, just as a human would.

It was a risk. He took many, in his position.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve memorized the coordinates to come back, if this works?”

“Yes.”

Together, Picard and O’Brien nodded at one another. Data’s fingers tightened on his bag, and soon, he felt himself dissolve in the yellow beam of light as his particles were forcibly separated and sent across subspace. Data shut his eyes.

When he opened them, he was on the _Enterprise. _

Except … it was subtly off. The first change Data noticed was the temperature. While the _Enterprise _ran a precisely calibrated temperature that had been experimentally determined to be comfortable for most Federation species, this was several degrees colder. As he stepped forward off the pad, he noted a distinct smell of … _dust. _He was inhaling _dust. _Why had the ventilation systems not kicked in? Data had helped refit them with Geordi himself. Though, perhaps, not on _this _starship.

In front of him, he saw Riker and Picard. Their uniforms were darker and sleeveless, reflecting a dark maroon color. Both had sashes wrapped around their waist and their uniforms came into a deep V. What was more, he noticed that Riker was entirely clean shaven, and Picard had grown a goatee.

Unusual. He had not known the Captain to enjoy facial hair in any universe.

“Who the hell sent an android over?” Riker grumbled under his breath, advising Data. Data looked blankly at both of them. “We’re in the middle of a storm; it’s not exactly the time to be exchanging gifts. O’Brien!”

His barked order was directed towards the harried-looking man in the corner. Data’s eyes fell on him. More particularly, they fell on his fingers where he saw no wedding ring in sight. Perhaps O’Brien had not gotten married in this universe and would, possibly, have no children to speak of. He hoped that would provide some comfort for the transporter chief at home. “Eh, the coordinates are all scattered, here, but we’re receiving mayday calls from four ships in this hell of a storm.”

“I say we just take it apart for scraps. Might get something for it at the next stop,” Riker put out there. Picard did not respond, instead going over to the transporter chief. In doing so, Data could see that he, Picard, and O’Brien – and likely all crewmembers on this ship – had a phaser strapped to one side of his hip, and a dagger strapped to the other.

That would be consistent with what Data knew of this universe. He watched Picard unsheathe his dagger and point it towards Miles’ face, only a few inches from the tip of his nose.

“Chief O’Brien. I expect _two _things from you. Respect and an _answer. _You have given me neither. With everything that’s gone on concerning La Forge, I do not have time to be _lenient _today. Now. First. How do we address a superior officer?” Picard’s voice was low and concise, but Data had never heard him sound so _threatening _before.

“S-sir. Sir, Captain Picard, sir,” Miles responded, his eyes firmly resting on the dagger.

“And _where _did this android come from?”

O’Brien’s eyes drifted to the console as he quickly manipulated some buttons. Data sensed desperation in him. And desperation, he knew from experience, drove people to deception.

“Ah, ah – the _Fury, _sir. They beamed him over as a trade, in hopes that we’ll rescue them. They’re about to go belly-up in this ion storm.”

Picard sucked his teeth, nodding as he thought. The dagger was placed back in its sheath as he turned to Riker. “Have him brought to Engineering to be disassembled into parts, Commander. We don’t have any use for an android on this vessel.” Picard paused, then adding over his shoulder to O’Brien – “Tell the _Fury _we don’t have time to play guardian angel.”

So they would be leaving the ship behind. Data remained silent, still assessing the situation. He did not like the idea of being disassembled on this vessel and would fight against it, but he did not like the idea of causing harm to these people, either.

Commander Riker stepped up to the transport pad, peering too close into his face. Data’s head tilted to the side curiously.

“_Wait. In. Engineering.” _Riker spoke very slowly, as if Data would have trouble understanding the simple order. He remembered Not-Geordi explaining that they didn’t have advanced androids in this universe. Riker’s next sentence was directed to O’Brien. “La Forge’ll be in the agonizer for the next few hours because of that little game he played. As soon as he’s out, tell him to go to Engineering to take this one apart.” He looked back up at Data. “Do. You. Understand?”

If Riker expected him to act like some immature android, Data could oblige for the sake of his cover. He kept his eyes blank, staring at the tip of Riker’s nose rather than into his eyes. “Yes …” Pausing, he let his servos twitch as if his processor was still functioning. “Commander.”

“Good.” Riker shared one last glance at both Data and O’Brien, before exiting into the main corridor. Data stood on his transport pad.

Regardless of what his plan would be, he could not do anything while still in the transport room. He, at least, had the freedom to wander around the ship … until Picard and Riker noticed he wasn’t waiting patiently in Engineering.

Walking in the herky-jerky movements of a junior generation android, Data exited the transporter pad and left the bay altogether. He witnessed an attempted murder in the next room.

Riker had pinned Picard to the wall, bracing his forearm against his neck to keep him still. His other arm had withdrawn his phaser and was pressing it firmly against his temple as if it were an ancient Earth firearm.

Despite the situation, Data did not hesitate to act. His preserveration-of-life protocols did not seem to differ in this universe, and without thinking much on it, he stepped forward, pressed his hand down onto Riker’s shoulder, and swiftly disarmed him. He swung his other arm around to push him back to a respectable distance. Riker spluttered in surprise and fell back against the opposite wall, in a measure that Data privately thought was too dramatic for the occasion.

There was an awkward few seconds of silence. Data held the phaser in his hand, remaining still, before placing it in his bag.

Picard seemed to be regarding Riker curiously, as if he wondered whether the man would attack him again. Riker seemed debating it, too. Finally, he pushed himself up to stand, curled his lip in Data’s direction, and limped down the hall.

“Android,” Picard intoned, placing a hand on Data’s shoulder again. “What did you say your primary objective was?”

Ah. A primary objective. A common trait in earlier androids, when technology simply hadn’t advanced to the point where androids could possess a wide skillset. To ask an android now (or, at least, to ask Data) about his primary objective was tantamount to asking a human his sole purpose in life.

But he could fake it well enough.

“Security. Sir.’ Data spoke in jilted, stuttering sentences, trying to summon up the essence of every previous android that he had studied.

Picard considered it, lips pursed, before he nodded. With a wave of his hand, he bid Data follow him. Data did so. “Maybe you will have some use here, then, as a sort of guard.” They crossed through the corridors slowly. Data saw other crewmembers amble by. Everyone seemed skittish when they locked eyes with the Captain. The only few who dared look him in the face were, Data presumed, the senior staff. He did not see Troi or Worf amongst them.

Together, they came upon another incident. Two ensigns were advancing upon a lieutenant, one with dagger, other with phaser. The lieutenant was defending himself adequately, but all had lacerations and other various injuries. They circled one another like rabid animals for a moment before the ensign lept upon the lieutenant, stabbing them in the collarbone. The lieutenant hissed in pain and threw them off. Dagger still plunged in their shoulder, the lieutenant ran down the hallway, pursued by two ensigns.

Data did not understand. It seemed senselessly cruel.

“Hell is empty,” Picard remarked, walking over the puddle of blood on the floor. “And all the devils are here.”

“The _Temp_ – temp – temp –” No, he was not going to attribute the quote. If Picard was going to believe that he was an earlier model android, _presumably _earlier model androids did not have a working knowledge of Shakespeare. “Temper. Of the crew. Difficult to manage?”

“It is how Starfleet is run. If they were to kill that lieutenant, that lieutenant was incapable of performing his duties. One of the ensigns would fill his role. Of course, them squabbling about which one should fill it would likely result in another death.” Picard shrugged, clearly indifferent about the lives of his crew. “Such is life.”

Data’s already poor opinion of this universe sunk even further, as did his hopes about Geordi being alive.

They turned a corner, leading to a long, straight corridor. Data tilted his head in confusion. He did not recall this on the original _Enterprise _– at least, not in this exact structure. Normally, this would contain the guest quarters. Now, he saw nothing that indicated guest quarters, but instead …

As they passed the first door, Data understood suddenly. Of course. With a culture like this aboard the _Enterprise, _they would need to have a much larger brig.

“Those accused of treason, mutiny, general insubordinate behavior,” Picard explained as they walked by. The brig cells were much smaller than the ones aboard his _Enterprise _– if Data stood with his arms outstretched, he could touch either side of the wall with both his palms.

Inside, Data saw all manner of crewmen. Some seemed relatively lively, pacing the floor. Others were slumped over. Others had injuries so severe that Data knew they couldn’t possibly draw breath again. Data had to focus his processes together as they had begun to fluctuate in panic. This _couldn’t _be where Geordi had spent his last days. He would be alone, terrified, and in pain. “Usually a few rounds in the agonizer do well to sort them out,” Picard explained. Data had fallen behind him, aghast at the cells. Picard stood in front of one cell in particular. “Except for this one.”

Data stepped forward, the interior of the small brig cell coming to light. And there, slumped in the corner, was Geordi La Forge.

_Geordi. _Data took a step closer to the cell barrier, looking down at him. Everything else tuned out for a second as he focused on Geordi’s chest, yellow uniform shirt dirty and stained.

It rose and fell.

Geordi was alive.

Geordi was alive, and Data was here, which meant he could bring him home. Picard tapped in a code on the neighboring panel and the barrier slid down, granting them access. Geordi did not move. He did not even register the movement. Data didn’t know if he was conscious.

“Rounds of interrogation and we’ve gotten nothing from him. Of course, we can’t hurt him too badly, or –” Picard stepped forward, nudging Geordi’s arm with his foot. “He passes out. Would you believe that he’s from another universe? The information we could glean from him.”

There was the familiar tone of _awe, _curiosity in his voice that was reminiscent of _his _Captain. To see that awe used in such a violent, murderous way here … Data decided that he did not like it.

“But perhaps _you _might be able to get something from him.” Picard announced, a sudden idea lighting his face. “Yes. Yes, you’re a security android, are you not? You must be experienced in all forms of interrogation. This might work _wonderfully.” _He stepped back from Geordi’s limp form, allowing Data to go forward. “Here. Let’s have a demonstration. We’ve used electricity to jolt him awake before – though we’re not as precise about it as we should be. Go on.”

Picard wanted him to … _shock _Geordi awake. While he could theoretically reroute some of his power through his fingertips, every protocol ever instilled in him commanded against hurting his boyfriend in _any _capacity.

He did not want to.

Data looked up at Picard, and then down at Geordi. The Captain was growing impatient, and Data considered the worst. “Repeat query?” He asked, hopeful. There had been a few occasions in his life when playing dumb had gotten Data far.

“_Shock _the prisoner awake,” Picard repeated, firm.

“I have several definitions for the phrase ‘shock’, Captain.” Still, he kept his voice stilted and hesitating. “Would you prefer physiological shock or emotional shock or electrical shock –”

“For hell’s sake. _Electrical.” _

Data detected a strong frustration growing in his voice. “I see. I require parameters. Please specify type of electrical shock.”

“Er –”

“Please specify _voltage_ of electrical shock.”

“I don’t have time for – “

“Please specify duration and location of impact of electrical shock.”

Displeased, Picard drew his phaser and pointed it his way. Unpleasant. He could tell that it was clearly modified to increase its power. It would most definitely have an effect on him – depending on their modifications, it could even shut him down permanently. And then, Geordi would be, for all intents and purposes, doomed.

“Now see _here, _I don’t have time to wait around for you._” _Picard continued. “You know precisely what I want. I want you to shock him awake – and while you’re at it, try and get more answers out of him. That is a _command, _android. If I’ve returned and you don’t have answers, I’m taking you apart myself. Is that understood?”

Data tilted his head to the side curiously. “Parameter specification overridden,” he chirped helpfully. “Understood. Captain.”

The phaser was mercifully clipped back to his belt. Picard’s face softened, in a sensation that made Data eerily recall the Captain in the universe. He nodded, once, and disappeared from the cell. The light barrier slid back into place, leaving Geordi and him alone in a cell.

The act was dropped. Suddenly, Data moved smoothly to his knees in front of his friend. Geordi was slumped against the wall, his arm uncomfortably pinned between the metal and his own side. “_Geordi,” _he whispered. Alive, yes, breathing. He reached forward and touched Geordi’s shoulder, ostensibly to give him a shake awake. He had done it before, on the few occasions when Geordi had fallen asleep at his station or during his repairs. Geordi often worked himself too hard.

His supposedly unconscious boyfriend lashed out at him. The arm pinned against the wall suddenly freed itself, Geordi’s palm pressing against his neck. Beneath the warm, familiar skin of his boyfriend, Data felt something metallic and cold.

He received an electric shock, enough to send his sensors and optical unit haywire. Data’s teeth clacked together uncomfortably as he shuffled back, blinking several times to do a quick check of his systems.

“Ow,” Data muttered, accurately attempting to simulate how humans experienced pain. Geordi raised his head to look at him, his lips opening somewhat in surprise.

“Data? Is that you?” Geordi was hesitant. Data could see what had shocked him, now. Geordi had rerouted a wire in his VISOR down his neck, down his arm, and extended just over the edge of his sleeve. Accessing his databanks, Data recalled that, traditionally, entertainers would perform a ‘gag’ wherein they discreetly hid a buzzer to deliver either an electric shock, a squirt of water, or a loud sound against their palm. They would then shake the hand of an unsuspecting conspirator and amusement would ensue. This seemed reminiscent, though Data suspected that Geordi had created that system to fend off attackers and not to entertain children.

Data moved closer to Geordi. “Yes,” he stated in response. “I have come to return you to our universe. It is good to see you.” Data carefully separated the errant painful wire from his VISOR with no complaint from Geordi. Indeed, he offered no resistance. From there, he carefully reattached it in its proper place inside the VISOR’s circuitry. The entire process took less than a minute, with Geordi remaining perfectly still under Data’s grasp.

When he finished, however, Geordi threw his arms around his neck. At first, Data worried that it was another form of attack, but then he realized it as a sign of affection. Geordi was seeking comfort. In that instant, whatever pain Data felt at being shocked from him completely dissipated.

“I’m so sorry,” Geordi grunted against him, arms squeezing around him tightly. “I saw you and the Captain – I wasn’t sure if you were _you, _or if they somehow had your counterpart here.”

“The confusion is understandable. I purposefully altered my motor and verbal patterns to appear like a more primitive android.” Geordi was still not pulling away from him. Unusual. Although this was not a mission in the bureaucratic sense, it was nonetheless one of high urgency and danger. With all his relationships, Geordi did not generally pursue displays of affection while he was working. And now, Geordi was leaning on him, hugging him tightly. “Geordi. Are you alright?”

Geordi didn’t respond specifically to that question. He just kept his arms around Data a little longer, squeezing him against his chest. Data found that he did not mind the contact. He had found affection with Geordi highly enjoyable, though, in this instance, his uncertainty that Geordi was in a satisfactory physical and emotional state was growing. Geordi was injured; Data could see bruises on his face. He did not know if there was anything else.

“We gotta get out of here, Data. Not safe for you here.”

“Nor is it safe for you, evidently. I know the coordinates to return, but we must return there. I will explain the entire situation later.”

Geordi pulled away from him. Data could not determine the emotion on his face. “Uh, okay, we need to – “ He brushed his face over his hands, jostling the VISOR somewhat. Geordi was in distress. He did not often touch the VISOR under normal circumstances. “We just need to get to the transporter bay.”

There was the underlying issue of Chief O’Brien being stationed there, but that was a secondary problem. The primary problem was getting there. Geordi pushed himself up from the floor; Data noted that it took him a considerable more amount of effort than normal. “Geordi.” Data didn’t continue with his concern, hoping instead that it was obvious.

“I’m fine.” Geordi was looking along the walls of the cell, now, before he rapped his knuckles on one panel. “Here’s the power hub for the door control. If you pry the panel off and sever a couple of the wires, that should do it.”

Even so, they could not bypass the dozens of crewmembers they would need to pass in the corridors. They would be caught immediately. Data looked up towards the ceiling. If he made the bold assumption that this _Enterprise’s _schematics were the same as his own, then they could, theoretically, climb through the ducts to reach the transporter bay. Geordi could boost him, and then he could easily pull Geordi up.

He looked down at Geordi in concern. There was an exhaustion and weakness to the way he moved, his arms crossed over his chest protectively as he regarded the steel wall. No, he would not ask Geordi to strain himself further. That would be, as best as he could describe it, ungentlemanly.

“Okay. Okay, getting there is the real problem,” Geordi muttered, echoing Data’s thoughts. He paced to the other end of the cell, which wasn’t very far. In doing so, however, Data could see smudges of dirt and oil on his uniform, as well as stains that were consistent with blood.

Data found himself staring at them, fixated. They had made Geordi bleed. Although it could not summon emotion in him, Data was confident that his defensive protocols would no longer kick in if he saw a crewmember on this ship getting hurt. The idea of justice was constantly changing in Data’s mind, impacted by his daily thoughts and experiences, but he could not shake the feeling that these people _deserved _pain for hurting Geordi in such a manner.

That was unusual. Data did not know whether he was being cruel or not. Could his romantic association with Geordi, a very positive, warm experience, inspire notions of cold cruelty in him?

It warranted further analysis. Data was brought out of his thoughts as Geordi snapped in an idea. “Got it. The agonizer chambers. They’re a corridor away from the transporter bay. If you act as my guard bringing me there, nobody should give you any trouble. We break right before we get there and head to the transporter bay. Then,” Geordi concluded, “We play it by ear.”

“Play it by ear.” Data had to look up the phrase. “Ah. We work without a plan, in the hope that statistical probability will work in our favor.”

Geordi shot him a smile, which released some of the tension Data held in himself. It was good to see Geordi smile, even in such a difficult time. “Well, when you say it like that, it sounds like a bad plan.”

“I apologize, that is not my intention. It is no plan, which is, by definition, better than a bad plan.” Data corrected. He went over to the metal panel and felt along the edges for a seam. There was none. With a hiss of alarm from Geordi and a furtive glance towards the hall, Data crashed his fist against the metal plating to cause a dent. That gave him enough of a grip to pry it off.

Geordi suddenly appeared by his elbow, examining the different wires there. “That one,” he told Data, pointing towards a thick red wire. “That’ll shut off the power. Be careful.”

It was a useless sentiment, even if Data nonetheless appreciated Geordi’s concern for him. He placed both hands on the wire and yanked his hands in opposite directions, severing the wire. A shower of sparks erupted from it, uselessly dashing itself against the wall.

At the same time, the photonic barrier flickered out of existence. They were free to exit.

“Great.” Geordi clasped his hands behind his back. It was not as effective as binding, but Data had no tools to bind his hands. Hopefully nobody would inspect the pair two closely. “You think you can play the role of the guard well enough, Data? You might have to be convincing.”

Data had acted as a guard before, though he suspected that his _Enterprise’s _views on guarding were much different than the ship he was currently on. He would have to _act. _Thankfully, he was good at acting – after all, he had been acting as a primitive android since he stepped onto this ship.

“Alright, punk,” he stated loudly, putting on a long drawl particular to those from 19th century American Midwest. “Let’s get you to the pokey.” He placed some pressure on Geordi’s shoulder, urging him forward a half step. Before his boyfriend did, however, Geordi dissolved into a pile of snickers against Data’s shoulder. He raised an eyebrow. Did he do something incorrectly?

“I changed my mind. Please don’t –” Geordi unclasped his hands to laugh into his hand. “Please don’t say a single word. Just pretend to be a less sophisticated android again – _pokey, _Data, really?”

Data opened his mouth, but no sound came out initially. Perhaps his initial assessment had been in error. “I presumed there was something poking in nature in the agonizer. I thought it would be accurate.” A further analysis indicated that ‘pokey’ actually referred to the physical construct of a prison, and not anything actually sharp. Interesting.

“You know. You’re not wrong.” Geordi’s face relaxed into solemnity, even gravity. “Alright. Let’s get going. Sooner we get out of here, the better.”

Data returned to his traditional movements as he led Geordi out of the cell. Almost immediately, they started to pass crewmembers. They regarded the pair suspiciously, but Data suspected that both he and the prisoner did not register as a threat. Perhaps word had passed that Data had saved the Captain from the First Officer, and they thought him too ‘tough’ to approach. Data had never been viewed as tough before.

Geordi walked in front of him, head slightly bowed. Occasionally, he would stumble. He had never known his boyfriend to be a particularly good actor, and this was a convincing performance – so Data could only assume it to be genuine. Geordi must have been exhausted.

_Soon, _Data wanted to beam directly into his brain, _you will be in your quarters, and it will be as warm as you like, and I will rub your shoulders. _

But he had not been programmed with any telepathic ability to speak of, and so, he suspected Geordi received none of his comforting words. Data nonetheless sent the message to Geordi’s communicator in the other dimension. Perhaps, when he was safe and sound and comfortable, he would read the message and smile.

They turned a corridor, escaping the seemingly endless wall of prisoner cells. Up ahead, Data saw a series of metal doors. This was where he had walked with Picard, earlier. Part of him was somewhat disappointed that he did not get to explore the rest of the Enterprise, here, to see what strange evils awaited him – but, as Geordi shivered beneath his touch at the sight of the doors, Data decided that he was perfectly fine with returning as soon as possible.

“Stop right there.” Riker approached them, phaser in hand but not raised. Data dimly wondered who was the chief of security here: certainly not Worf, with Not-Geordi’s assessment of Klingons. “Where are you transporting the prisoner?”

Geordi was stiff. Data raised his hand and clapped it on his shoulder, gripping it in a strange, artificial fashion. Unfortunately, Data knew precisely how to act artificially human, because he rebelled against it every day. This act came unnaturally easily to him. “Destination – agonizer chamber A.”

In that moment, he dearly hoped that they used an alphabetic system to number their agonizer chambers.

The first officer considered it, peering at the prisoner. “You sure? I don’t think he’ll survive a round in that. Didn’t the Captain want to get information from him?”

“Captain’s orders.” Data opened his mouth wider, and suddenly, it was Picard’s voice coming out. “_Transport the prisoner to agonizer chamber A.” _He had heard Picard’s voice for years; it really had been no difficulty to splice together a voice clip in such a fashion. He disliked doing it. It felt deceptive. But in this case, deception may have been necessary. Data tilted his head to the side, eyes blankly curious. “Disobeying Captain’s orders?”

Riker took a step back, seized with fear. Doubtless, he remembered Data’s quick dispatch from before. “No! No, of course I would never. I’m one of the loyal ones. Don’t tell him – “ He cleared his throat. “Don’t tell him that you saw me.”

“Command accepted.”

Still clearly on edge, the first officer quickly turned on his heel and departed – as if to indicate to Data that he had never even been seen here. Regardless, it had the fortuitous advantage of leaving he and Geordi alone.

Geordi kept his head somewhat bowed, but he did mutter out of the side of his mouth, “Good work, Data.”

A rush of artificial satisfaction surged through him. He needed to learn how to synthesize a blush on his face. It would better convey to Geordi when he was flattered.

The transporter bay doors slid open in front of them, and Captain O’Chief inspected them with familiar surprise. There was something hard about his eyes, and Data saw him slowly reach for his phaser.

There was limited time to act. He leapt forward over the transporter console to O’Brien. In synchronization, Geordi went to the terminal itself and began to alter the coordinates.

Mimicking the move he saw Riker perform earlier, Data braced his forearm against O’Brien’s collarbone to keep him from moving. The other snatched the wrist holding the phaser, keeping his finger away from the trigger. “Geordi,” he commanded loudly, eyes focused on the chief in front of him. “Aim the coordinates directly in the center of the ion storm.”

Geordi put up no complaints at the clearly suicidal move, and began to do it. O’Brien _growled _at him and tried to push his arms back. Data barely registered the pressure. He heard Geordi insistently tapping on the console behind him, occasionally murmuring quiet encouragement to it. Geordi often talked to the machines.

“Do you have children?” Data asked suddenly. The question had just occurred to him. Suddenly, O’Brien’s nervous eyes snapped back from Geordi to Data’s face. They screwed up in suspicion, his mouth slightly open as he concentrated, trying to figure out why Data would want to know about his offspring status. Not knowing clearly discomforted him.

Finally, he wet his lips and simply answered, in Data’s opinion, entirely honestly. “Well, no. No, I don’t,” he uttered, voice nervous.

He did not know if that would relieve the other O’Brien or not, but Data supposed that he would be interested to know the answer, anyway.

In that moment, Data was not aware that he had made a terrible, terrible miscalculation about how many weapons O’Brien had on his person.

His guard appropriately let down, O’Brien’s free hand clasped around the dagger at his waist and swung it towards Data.

“But I’ll be sending ye back to yer _Ma, _ye fecker –"

“Data!” Geordi hissed out as the dagger came down in the console between them. Something sparked and smelled faintly burnt. Data looked, alarmed. “It’ll still work, but you have to get to the pad _now! Transport in fifteen!” _

“Go! I will be there!” Data insisted back, rolling himself backward over the terminal as the dagger came down again. He had to get the chief away from the transporter. At this rate, he would destroy the terminal before either of them got away. With no time to argue, Geordi slid over the terminal and made his way for the pad.

Data’s internal clock remained remarkably consistent, even in objectively stressful situations. Even now, he could feel each second pass by as if it were an eternity. _Fifteen … fourteen … thirteen … _The arrays on the transporter pad started to hum to life.

Meanwhile, he saw Chief O’Brien lean down and reach for the phaser. A few shots were aimed towards Data, who ducked behind the terminal. They landed against the metal walls of the transporter bay, shearing straight holes through it. The amount of strength concentrated in those small devices was _remarkable, _really, though not quite what to focus on right then.

_Twelve. Eleven. Ten. _Data could see the light start to brighten around the pads as they built up energy. “Data!” Geordi called out to him, stepping off the pad to help. Data threw his palm out to him, a silent plea to stop his movements. Geordi _must _stay on the transporter pad. “We’re running out of time!”

As if noticing Geordi was still in the room, O’Brien turned his attention towards Geordi. The phaser was raised and shot, quickly, too quickly, no time to aim. It nevertheless hit its mark on one of four transporter arrays. That area of the transporter went dark, sparks falling to the floor. Data saw, in the heat of his moment, Geordi’s uniform sleeve momentarily catch fire.

He was spurred by the need to protect all human life, but there was something else there. Something deeper, something that burned, something _alive _and _desperate. Nine. Eight. Seven. _

Data vaulted over the console between them and threw his arms around O’Brien’s middle, sending him crashing to the ground. Up above him, he could hear the console fizzing with its limited, rapidly diminishing power. They would not get another chance after this – or, at least, Data would not. Geordi was going to return, no matter what, because Data was going to _ensure _it.

O’Brien was below him as Data straddled his midsection, glaring up cruelly. He had his dagger in his hand, still, and swiped it towards Data’s chest. Data caught his wrist. The dagger was quickly plucked from his hand and thrown across the room, against the wall with such force that it remained embedded into the metal. Now nobody would be using it, against android _or _human. The transporter chief still had his phaser, however, and raised it nonetheless. _Six. Five. Four. _

Data knocked his hand to the side. Perhaps he miscalculated his power, because he heard something _snap _in O’Brien’s wrist. He howled something indiscriminately, in pain, the phaser clattering to the floor. It was not enough. It had to be broken. Data reached for it.

Before he could wrap his fingers around it, something was thrown around his chest. Someone was trying to drag him to a standing position. “_Data,” _Geordi hissed against the side of his head. “We need to go now.”

That was correct. Geordi … was correct. And, more importantly, Geordi was not standing _on the transporter pad. _

He pulled himself off of O’Brien. Geordi turned around, starting to sprint back towards the beam. The light had grown more intense, now, beams of it shimmering in the air. It was a risky transport as it was – one array out, a damaged terminal, a homicidal transporter chief. Data followed along with him, everything seeming unbearably slow: in theory, he could launch ahead of Geordi, leave him in the dust, but no, he was going to stay behind him, because he would not be able to bear it if his mission failed, if Geordi was alone.

_Three … Two … _

Geordi was on the pad, and Data was an inch away. He saw Geordi began to disappear, starting with his right side. Data stepped forward – and then.

A phaser blast sailed over his shoulder, thudding into the metal wall. It captured his attention, defensive instincts kicking in, and Data turned around, ready to defend Geordi _again. _That was most important. Even if the blast missed them now, the next one could hit, and Geordi wasn’t fully energized yet, they still had _one _more –

“Oh no you _don’t!” _Behind him, a warm hand shot out, friendly and familiar, and wrapped around his wrist. One firm yank later, and Data stumbled backward onto the transporter pad.

_One. _


	3. A Quiet Recovery

“You two gave me no end of trouble,” Data heard O’Brien complaining when they reincorporated. “Moving around like that. You’re lucky I’ve been doing this for – well, let’s just say an awful long while and leave it at that.”

Before Data could react, his attention was on Geordi beside him. Geordi, it appeared, had a similar idea. Their eyes met and Geordi’s lips split in a stunning smile. Oh. Data had seen Geordi smile before (_five thousand, six hundred, and thirty seven times exactly)_, but somehow, they had meant a lot more lately. And _making Geordi smile _meant so much more than that.

“Glad you made it, buddy,” Geordi told him. “You worried the hell out of me back there.”

In reviewing his actions, Data found several mistakes. His main objective had been to bring Geordi home. When Geordi had been put in danger, that objective had been overridden temporarily and without his conscious realizing: he had to protect Geordi.

While not a bad goal in and of itself, he had almost sacrificed himself returning home to do so … and he went overboard, somewhat. Likely due to the new stimuli provided by their new relationship, the close physical and mental contact they shared with one another. Data could not call it emotional compromise (for he did not possess emotion), but the concept was similar.

It was a professional issue that he would have to work on.

(_He was so human he had something to work on professionally!) _

“The _Enterprise _is glad you both made it,” Picard stated, and Data turned to find the bridge crew watching them have a moment. “Though I had no doubt.”

“Captain, the likelihood that we would both return to the _Enterprise _was very, very little. I find it difficult to believe that you did not have … “ Data paused. There was some polite tittering among the bridge crew. Was he being amusing? “Doubts?”

Even the Captain was smiling at him, now. Data looked at Geordi, whose smile had not left his face.

Odd.

“Commander Data knocked it out of the park, Captain. Really, he pretended to be this – I don’t even know – this early-model android, and _nobody _suspected a thing!”

Data was not one to be outdone. “The _Lieutenant_ created a device for self-defense out of the wiring in his own VISOR and risked his own safety in order to ensure I came home.” Wait, why was he pointing at Geordi as if he were accusing him?

And yet, there was something twinkling in the Captain’s eyes. “Let’s wait until the debriefing before we start listing accolades. La Forge, report to medical. Do you need to be accompanied?”

“No. No, Captain, just … uh. Just sore. Thanks.” Data doubted the veracity of that claim, but Geordi nonetheless stepped off the pad and left for sickbay. Until the transporter bay doors closed behind him, Data’s eyes were glued to his boyfriend. The rest of the bridge crew shuffled out with him; Dr. Crusher’s hand going to his back. Soon, it was just him, Picard, and Chief O’Brien.

O’Brien let out a low whistle. “Can’t say I’ll ever want to beam someone to the direct middle of an ion storm again, sirs. Feels wrong, somehow.”

“What do you say, Commander? Do you think we’ll ever have reason to return?”

“No. I do not believe so. The ion storm will dissipate soon, and their transporter was heavily damaged. Even if they are curious about our universe, they will not have the means to visit.” Data turned towards Picard. “Am I dismissed to resume my duties, Captain?”

Data knew that if he were human, he would be granted leave at least for the rest of the day. Seeing one’s partner injured, even if the relationship was new, was reason enough for that. Just to recuperate mentally.

But he was not human.

“Yes, Commander. You are dismissed.”

Gratefully, Data stepped down from the transporter pad. He had already lined up the rest of the assignments for the day – if he got to the engine room in 1.4 minutes, then he would be able to complete it. Data had no doubts in himself.

Before he reached the door, he paused for a moment in front of Miles. Data paused, considered, and then told him intently, “You have no children on the other _Enterprise.” _

O’Brien was still beaming at him when Data left the transporter bay.

-

The moment Geordi sat down next to him in the lounge, Data was leaning on him. He had done a substantial amount of research into the appropriate method for cuddling. Literature had been unhelpful on the topic. Still, Data felt as if he were learning, and with the way Geordi slid an arm around his shoulders, Data knew he had performed the physical affection successfully. Good.

They were in a little booth, facing the viewscreen of the main lounge. It was semi-secluded in nature, obscured from most of the lounge but not particularly hidden. Data could still make eye contact with Guinan, who gave them both a knowing little smile.

This was the first time they were doing this in the lounge. Data wasn’t certain if it was a substantial step in the development of a relationship, but he did enjoy it. He pondered about posing the question to Geordi (_are we now a serious relationship, Geordi?)_, and decided against it. Geordi’s face was thoughtful. He opted for a question that was easier to answer.

“Are you feeling well?” The bruises on Geordi’s face had healed considerably, and he had changed into a new uniform. “You were in sickbay for some time.”

Geordi pursed his lips, thinking. “Yeah. Dr. Crusher wanted to be thorough, the, uh – injuries weren’t always obvious.” At Data’s alarmed glance, Geordi shushed him dismissively. “I’m okay. Really.”

“If you are certain. You were held there for some time.”

“I know. Believe me, Counselor Troi is a step away from putting a cot for me in her office. I promise, Data. I’ll be okay.” Geordi patted his shoulder warmly. “So. Heard the other me kicked you?’

“Yes, to attempt to persuade me to halt my pursuit. It did not work.”

“You okay?”

“Of course. The damage was barely superficial in nature. At that point, I was aware that there was something amiss with you, so it did not register as a betrayal.” He heard Geordi shift beside him, and Data realized he was attempting to stifle a chuckle. “I apologize. I have been unintentionally amusing frequently.”

“No, just. _Ain’t love a kick in the head,” _Geordi crooned softly, above him. An old Earth song.

Love. _Love. _For a moment, that was all Data’s sensors could input to him, though his processes did not self-terminate (as they normally did, whenever he was faced with incomputable stimuli). Instead, Data simply thought it, over and over. _Lovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelove. _

Geordi sighed. “That’s not funny. Sorry. Dr. Crusher mentioned she fixed you up?” He slid one finger under Data’s chin to raise his head, allowing Geordi to inspect the affected area. “Good as new, I see. She’s improved a lot at android medicine. I know it makes you feel better, going to a doctor instead of having me dig around in your circuits.”

_Lovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelove? Lovelovelovelovelovelove. _

“Um,” Geordi asked him, knitting his eyebrows together. “You okay? Your systems are running in overdrive.”

No, he did not want to explain this particular phenomenon to Geordi right now. Not until he had a better grasp of where it came from, exactly. He overrode the repetitive thought, shoving it deep into back of his mind, and blinked once at Geordi curiously. “I am well. It has been, to use a human phrase, a long day.”

Geordi’s breath left him in a huff. “You’re telling me. Reminds me, I haven’t thanked you for getting me out of there, have I?”

“It was the objective of my mission.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not grateful. And that I’m not sorry, at least in some way, that you had to see some … _bad guy _version of myself.” Geordi’s voice was melancholic. “And here I thought we’d be best friends, _at least_, in every universe.”

Data did not understand this sentiment. “Does it not mean more that, if we had an equal chance of existing in any universe, we were fortunate enough to exist in the one that led to us being romantically involved?”

After all, Data supposed, there would be universes where he was never built or Geordi died in childbirth or they simply never met at all. That was basic statistics. The idea that their relationship was a universal constant, that their being together was some sort of obligation to physics, also troubled him.

He preferred the idea that he had expressed his free will to do something very human – to love (_love?lovelove!love) _another person.

Geordi considered that, and then turned his head to press his lips against Data’s cheek. As displays of public affection went, it was a large gesture on Geordi’s part. Data considered it, pausing, before pressing his own against Geordi’s skin, soft and warm.

“Yeah. You’re right. And, either way, it doesn’t matter, comparing ourselves to other universes. _That _one …” Geordi shivered. “I’m back on the right ship, and that’s what matters. And my VISOR’s collected enough data from over there to be set for weeks.”

Of course Geordi would make this into a research experience. Sometimes, Data wondered if his dedication to work was as strong as Geordi’s was. It was really quite admirable. Data shifted his body against Geordi to let his head fall on his shoulder, staring out the viewscreen. “Would you like assistance with the analysis tomorrow?”

“You know I would. But maybe – “ Geordi hesitated, before finishing. “Dr. Crusher told me that I can take some time off, if I feel I need it. There’s nothing physically debilitating, just have to be gentle with myself. So I was thinking, if you wanted, we could work on it in the afternoon?” Data instantly realized the unspoken offer, and he considered it. While he technically was not on shift tomorrow, he often worked in other miscellaneous projects. Now, though … Data had options.

“Yes,” he responded, voice quiet. “You will sleep in late, and we will share a morning meal, and then we will go to work.”

“Sounds like a functional morning to me.” Geordi shifted uncomfortably underneath him, and instantly Data was concerned: _did I apply too much pressure, Geordi, is my upper half too heavy, Geordi, I will lean on you no longer, Geordi. _“Like you said – it’s been a long day. I’m okay, but I think …” He broke off in a long yawn, and Data understood. “Seriously, I didn’t even mean to sit down here, just wanted to wish you goodnight.”

“Why did you sit?”

“Don’t know.” But, then, Geordi corrected himself to express his feelings verbally. It was almost vital in a relationship such as their own. “I’ve missed you.”

Oh. Data had been _missed! _He stood from the booth and offered his hand out for Geordi to take. Geordi did so, but did not let go of Data’s hand. Instead, his fingers curled around Data’s own, not unnerved by the _just-not-quite-right _stiffness there. “I missed you, too.” Data admitted, because he had. He had missed him especially badly when he’d been looking at Not-Geordi; every sense sounded an alarm at the not-rightness of him.

Together, they held hands and departed down the corridor. Data’s attention was focused on the process of hand-holding. At one point, a crewmember had come down the hallway. Geordi’s instinct had to be to pull their hands apart so that they could pass, but Data had reacted instead by raising their hands over the crewmember’s head, allowing her to pass in between them. Geordi found that funny, clearly. Data just wished, so badly, that he understood _why. _

But maybe Geordi finding him funny was enough, for now. He would find out later.

Geordi’s door slid open, recognizing his biosignature. He stepped into the frame of the door and turned back towards Data, offering up a smile.

Data was more familiar with this. While he enjoyed it, he had also done it five times before and stored every incident in his memory banks. He stepped forward and kissed Geordi, hands resting carefully against Geordi’s sides. Geordi passed his hands along Data’s torso and rested his fingers against Data’s neck, tips lightly pushing down on his skin. Data still could not quantify or experience _happy, _he knew, but this was an experience he wanted to repeat, again and again.

“You know,” Geordi muttered as they pulled apart, “You don’t have to _leave.” _

Data looked over Geordi’s shoulder into his quarters. Usually, he did not enjoy people witnessing him sleep. He knew he did not do it well – he had not yet programmed his breathing subroutines to continue while he slept, and he did not shift in his sleep, and he was not groggy in the mornings.

But he did not feel self-conscious in front of Geordi.

“I will have to leave in the morning temporarily to feed Spot. She becomes very frustrated if not fed at a specific time,” Data warned him.

Geordi chuckled, taking his hand again. “I won’t take any offense.”

With that, Geordi brought him into his quarters by his hand, and the doors shut behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first foray into the world of Data/La Forge, but this idea has been kicking around in my head for a while. I loved the Mirror Universe episode of TOS and wish they'd explored it in TNG - here, I've sort of mixed TOS Mirror Universe [shoutout to the vest uniforms] and the TNG episode where they see the alternate future of the Enterprise. 
> 
> Data's a very interesting character to write, because there's this instinct as a writer to talk about how a character is feeling - and while Data does 'feel', it's not in the same way as humans do and you gotta find some workarounds to describe it, which was an interesting little exercise.
> 
> Thank you all for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Standard TOS-Mirror-Evil-Guy Goatee™


End file.
